#her_bliss

[lygophilia-a]

Her Bliss Death is in the flower's heart – Why to cry for life of any petal? Death in purple ink of weary pens Betrays the written yearnings On her scented paper. Death is laughing in her cry; Her broken heart forlorn upon the sleeve. Death ignores the plight of any purity – He doesn’t care or seem to be aware of What her dewy eye desires, For Death beckoned: 'Embrace the jar! ' And yes, she did – For Death, of course. After all, no other man would Open up her hand and bid her with a kiss, So Death became her bliss.

By: Mark R Slaughter